


Reflections of Our Guilt

by NotALemon



Series: A Two-Man, One-Angel Operation (Supernatural Rewritten) [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s01e05 Bloody Mary, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, Gabriel and Sam Winchester in Love, Gabriel's Questionable Past, Guilt, M/M, One (1) Token Lord of the Rings Reference, Protective Gabriel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester's Nightmares, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: “I take it I was having a nightmare,” Sam says. He reaches out to touch Gabriel’s hand, scared that it would go through Gabriel’s flesh.“Yeah, another one,” Dean says.“Hey, at least I got some sleep,” Sam says.“You know, sooner or later we’re gonna have to talk about this,” Dean says, testily.
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: A Two-Man, One-Angel Operation (Supernatural Rewritten) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643980
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89





	Reflections of Our Guilt

Sam lies back on his bed, eyes closed, then hot blood drips on his forehead. He opens his eyes and sees Gabriel on the ceiling. 

“Why, Sam? Why, Sam?” he asks.

“No!” Sam yells, reaching out to the ceiling.

“Why, Sam?” Gabriel’s body bursts into hungry flames that devour him. “Why, Sam?”

Dean shakes his brother’s shoulder. “Sam, wake up,” he says.

Sam opens his eyes, looking around as if he’s expecting to be somewhere entirely different. He’s sitting shotgun in the Impala, parked in front of a large building. When he looks over his shoulder, he sees Gabriel, face knit with concern.

“I take it I was having a nightmare,” Sam says. He reaches out to touch Gabriel’s hand, scared that it would go through Gabriel’s flesh.

“Yeah, another one,” Dean says. 

“Hey, at least I got some sleep,” Sam says.

“You know, sooner or later we’re gonna have to talk about this,” Dean says, testily.

“Are we here?” Sam asks. 

“Yup,” Dean says. “Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

Sam picks up a newspaper with Steven Shoemaker’s obituary circled in the same sketchy circle Dean circles every obituary with. _**Shoemaker, Steven**_ , the heading reads. _The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemaker. Steven was 46_ , the body reads.

“So, what d’you think happened to _this_ guy, huh?” Gabriel asks. 

“That’s what we’re gonna find out,” Dean says. “Let’s go.”

Dean and Sam exit the car and head up to the building. Gabriel flies there, lazy as ever. 

-

Room 144 is marked _Morgue_. Inside, there are two desks, the empty one having a nameplate reading _Dr. D. Feiklowicz_ , and the other with the morgue technician.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hey,” Dean says.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “We’re the, uh… med students.”

“Sorry?” the morgue tech asks.

“Oh, Doctor-- Figlavitch didn’t tell you?” Dean asks. “We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we’re from Ohio State.”

“We’re supposed to see the Shoemaker corpse. Gotta write a paper and all,” Gabriel adds smoothly. Having spent most of his immortal lifetime lying has its perks. 

“Well, I’m sorry, he’s at lunch,” the morgue tech says.

“Oh well he said, uh--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gabriel dismisses. “How ‘bout you show us the body, huh?”

“Sorry, I can’t,” the morgue tech says. “Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.”

“An hour? Ooh.” Gabriel winces. “We gotta be back to the big C by then.” He looks at Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam says.

“Uh, look, man, this paper’s like half our grade, so if you don’t mind helpin’ us out--”

“Uh, look, man… no,” the morgue tech says. 

Dean laughs a little, then turns around to mumble to Sam and Gabriel. “I’m gonna hit him in his face, I swear.”

Sam hits Dean in the arm, then steps in front of both Dean and Gabriel, opens his wallet, and pulls out some twenties, laying out about five of them on the morgue tech’s desk. 

The morgue tech picks up the money. “Follow me,” he says, more accepting of their presence. He gets up and leads them to the morgue. 

Dean grabs Sam. “Dude, I earned that money,” he hisses.

“You won it in a poker game,” Sam says.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Dean says. 

Gabriel pushes past Dean and wraps his hand around Sam’s arm, following after the morgue tech.

“Now, the newspaper said his daughter found him,” Sam says, once they’re in the morgue. “She said his eyes were bleeding.”

The morgue tech pulls back the sheet over Steven’s face. “More than that. They practically liquefied.” He sounds grossly fascinated.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean suggests.

“Nope,” the morgue tech says. “Besides the daughter, he was all alone.”

“What’s the official cause of death?” Sam asks.

“Ah, Doc’s not sure. He’s thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks.

“Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I’ve ever seen,” the morgue tech says. 

“What d’you think would cause somethin’ like that? Some sorta… dunno, Carrie-type thing, but all in his head?” Gabriel asks. 

“Capillaries can burst,” the morgue tech says. “See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.”

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean asks.

“That’s a first for me, but hey, I’m not the doctor,” the morgue tech says.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know, for, uh… our paper?”

“I’m not really supposed to show you that,” the morgue tech says.

Gabriel rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers. The report shows up in his hands, and the morgue tech glazes over. 

“What the hell did you do?” Dean asks Gabriel.

“Get your panties outta that twist. He isn’t dead. He’ll just think he fell asleep at his desk and--” he shrugs-- “had a dream about some super hot tall guy, his handsome boyfriend, and weird brother.” Gabriel snaps up a table and lays the police report on top of it. “So, let’s read about our friend Stevie’s death.”

-

Dean walks in front of Sam and Gabriel, down the stairs in front of the hospital. 

“Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing,” Sam suggests.

“How many times in Dad’s long and varied career has it _actually_ been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean asks.

“Uh, almost never,” Sam says.

“Exactly.”

“Wow, _I’m_ convinced!” Gabriel says. “So let’s go talk to the brother.”

-

The Shoemaker house is full of funeral goers, dressed in black, except for the Winchesters and Gabriel, of course. On the desk, there is a picture of Steven Shoemaker.

“Feel like we’re underdressed,” Dean remarks, as they walk through the house and into the backyard.

A man points them towards Donna and Lily Shoemaker, who are with their friends, Jill and Charlie.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” Donna says. She’s in her late teens or early twenties, too young to be dealing with the death of her father.

“I’m Sam, and this is Gabriel and Dean. We worked with your dad,” Sam says, kind and soft.

Donna looks at Charlie, then back at Sam and Dean. 

“You did?” Donna asks.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.”

“I don’t think she really wants to talk about this right now,” Charlie says.

“It’s okay,” Donna says. “I’m okay.”

“Were there any symptoms?” Dean asks. “Dizziness? Migraines?”

“No,” Donna says.

Lily, a young teen, turns around to face her sister. “That’s because it wasn’t a stroke,” she says, confidently. 

“Lily, don’t say that,” Donna chastises.

“What?” Gabriel asks.

“I’m sorry,” Donna apologizes. “She’s just upset.”

“No, it happened because of me,” Lily insists.

“Sweetie, it didn’t,” Donna assures her. 

“Lily.” Sam gets down on eye level with her, his face kind and concerned. “Why would you say something like that?” he asks.

“Right before he died, I said it,” Lily says.

“What did you say?” Gabriel asks.

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror,” Lily confesses. There’s a pause. “She took his eyes. That’s what she does.”

“That’s not why Dad died. This isn’t your fault.”

“I think your sister’s right, Lily,” Dean says. “There’s no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn’t say it, did she?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Lily says.

-

They make their way to the upstairs bathroom, the scene of the death. Sam pushes the door open, some dried blood still on the tiles. 

“The Bloody Mary legend… Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?” Sam asks.

“Not that I know of,” Dean replies.

Dean walks into the bathroom. Sam stoops to the floor and touches the dried blood. 

“I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it,” Sam says.

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere else it’s just a story, but here it’s actually happening.”

“Tall tales,” Gabriel says. Sam gives him a meaningful look. Gabriel raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, now. This isn’t a Trickster’s handiwork, if you’re wonderin’,” Gabriel says. 

Dean squints at them. “I don’t know if I wanna know,” he says.

“We all got pasts we’re not proud of,” Gabriel says. 

“But according to the legend, the person who says B--” he looks at the mirror for the medicine cabinet, which now faces him, and closes it so he can no longer see his and Gabriel’s faces. “The person who says _you know what_ gets it. But here--”

“Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah,” Dean says. “Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter’s right. The way the legend goes, _you know who_ scratches your eyes out.”

They leave the bathroom, only to be confronted by Charlie.

“What are you doing up here?” she questions.

“We-- We had to go to the bathroom,” Dean says, flimsy. 

“Who are you?” Charlie asks.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna’s dad,” Dean says.

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself,” Charlie says.

“No, I know, I meant--”

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what’s going on, or I start screaming,” Charlie threatens.

Dean looks at Gabriel expectantly, like he’s expecting Gabriel to pull the same trick on Charlie that he pulled on the morgue tech, but Gabriel just gives him a look in response.

“Alright, alright,” Sam says. “We think something happened to Donna’s dad.”

“Yeah, a stroke,” Charlie says.

“Nah. That’s not a sign of your typical, garden-variety stroke. It’s _gotta_ be somethin’ else,” Gabriel says. 

“Like what?” Charlie asks.

“Honestly? We don’t know yet. But we don’t want it to happen to anyone else. _That’s_ the truth,” Sam says.

“So, if you’re gonna scream, go right ahead<” Dean continues.

“Who are you, cops?” Charlie asks.

Sam looks over his shoulder at Dean.

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean says.

“I’ll tell you what. Here.” Sam pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and looks to Gabriel. Gabriel tries to be subtle about his finger snap. Sam hands Charlie the piece of paper, now with his cell number written on it in Gabriel’s large, curving script. “If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary… just give us a call.” 

Sam leads Dean and Gabriel down the hallway. 

-

The library is somewhat dark for the time of day from the outside. Ohio skies are not necessarily known for being particularly bright or cloudy, in that same sort of swinging existence that the rest of the state is.

“Alright, say Bloody Mary really _is_ haunting this town,” Dean says, skeptical as always. “There’s gonna be some sorta proof-- Like a local woman who died nasty.”

“Yeah, but a legend this widespread… it’s hard. I mean, there’s like, fifty versions of who she actually is. One story says she’s a witch, another says she’s a mutilated bride-- there’s a lot more,” Sam explains. 

They walk into the library itself.

“Alright, so what are we supposed to be lookin’ for?” Dean asks.

“Every version’s got a few things in common,” Sam continues. “It’s always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we’ve gotta search local newspapers-- public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.”

Well, that sounds annoying,” Dean mutters.

“No, it won't’ be so bad, as long as we…” he looks at the computers, all with the dreaded _Out of Order_ sign on them and chuckles in an _of course it’s us_ way. “I take it back. This will be _very_ annoying.”

Gabriel looks to Sam and Dean, sighs, and snaps again, three computers miraculously missing the signs. 

“Oh, look, they’re fixed!” he observes, sarcastic and dry. “Some higher power must really love you, Sam, ‘cuz that’s somethin’ that doesn’t happen every day.” Gabriel strolls over to sit at one, looking over his shoulder at Sam.

Dean blinks a couple times at Gabriel, then looks to his brother. “Dude,” he says. “ _Where_ did you _get him_? And does he have, like, a hot sister or somethin’?”

“Maybe you should ask him sometime,” Sam says, his geeky heart touched by Gabriel’s kind gesture. 

“Wait a minute, this isn’t some weird sort of geeky foreplay, is it? ‘Cuz if I go out for food and find you two anythin’ but decent, I’m gonna _flip_.”

Sam shrugs and walks over to join Gabriel, sitting far too close to him.

Dean mutters to himself under his breath, something about _brother-corrupting feathery bastards_ , before joining them at the computers.

-

“Why Sam?” the burning heap that is Gabriel asks, words so clear despite the fire consuming him.

Sam jerks awake, breathing harsh and terrified. Gabriel reaches out for Sam’s hand, holding it tightly.

“Why’d you let me fall asleep?” Sam asks them both.

“You’re pretty damn exhausted, cupcake,” Gabriel says.

“‘Cuz I’m an awesome brother,” Dean says. “So what did you dream about?”

“Lollipops and candy canes,” Sam mutters, sarcastic and annoyed.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbles, getting more and more impatient about Sam avoiding the question. 

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks.

“Oh, ‘sides a whole new level of frustration?”

Sam sits up, leaning against Gabriel just for the comfort that he is there, alive.

“No. I’ve looked at everythin’, no thanks to _him_ ,” Dean says. “A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine, committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but, uh, no Mary.”

Sam falls back on the bed, eyeing Gabriel. “Maybe we just haven’t found it yet,” he says.

“I’ve also been searchin’ for strange deaths in the area, y’know… eyeball bleeding, that sorta thing. There’s nothin’. Whatever’s happenin’ here, maybe it just ain’t Mary,” Dean continues.

Sam’s cell phone rings. He picks it up, flipping it open. “Hello?” His face changes into concern.

-

Dean sits with a crying Charlie on a park bench, Sam and Gabriel standing behind them.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her-- her eyes. They were gone.” Charlie’s voice breaks, full of horror at what had happened to her friend.

“I’m sorry,” Sam says.

“And she said it,” Charlie says.

Dean looks up at Sam, eyebrows raised. 

“I heard her say it. But it couldn’t be because of that. I’m insane, right?” Charlie’s voice takes on the pleading tone that they’re used to hearing, that _please tell me I’m making things up and that the world isn’t as crazy as I must be_ voice.

“No, you’re not insane,” Dean says.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse,” Charlie says.

“Look,” Sam says, “we think something’s happening here. Something that can’t be explained.”

“And we’re gonna stop it, but we could use your help,” Dean says. 

-

Jill’s room is that of a typical teenage girl’s. It doesn’t look like it would be the scene of a gruesome murder at all, but that’s something that you get used to, as a hunter. 

Charlie comes in from the hallway and locks the door behind her. She opens the window, allowing Dean in, while Sam and Gabriel appear next to her, a duffel bag in hand.

“What the _hell_?” Charlie asks.

“Oh, yeah, about that.” Gabriel does his typical party trick of snapping up a candy bar (this time a Nerds rope) and spreading the shadows of his wings behind him. “Gabriel, archangel of the Lord, all that jazz. Candy?”

Charlie blinks at Gabriel, then looks at Sam and Dean. “An _angel_?”

“Yeah, it takes some gettin’ used to,” Dean says.

Charlie shakes her head.

“What did you tell Jill’s mom?” Sam asks.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill’s pictures and things.”

Sam takes something from the duffel while Dean shuts the curtains.

“I hate lying to her,” Charlie says.

“Trust us, this is for the greater good,” Dean assures her. “Hit the lights.”

Gabriel snaps, the room filling with darkness.

“This is _so_ weird.” Charlie looks around. “What are you guys looking for?”

“We’ll let you know as soon as we find it,” Dean says.

Sam hands a digital camera to Dean. “Hey, night vision.” Dean turns on the night vision for his brother and hands it back to him. “Perfect.” Sam looks through the camera, aiming it at Dean.

“Do I look like Paris Hilton?” Dean asks.

“Try Chris Farley,” Gabriel retorts. 

Sam walks away with the camera, opening Jill’s closet door and filming around the mirror. “So I don’t get it. I mean… the first victim didn’t summon Mary, and the second victim did. How’s she choosing them?” He closes the closet door.

“Beats me,” Dean says. “I wanna know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It’s just a joke,” Charlie says.

“You gotta be careful with the jokes, ‘cuz bad shit like this happens when people aren’t careful,” Gabriel warns. 

“Somebody’s gonna say it again, it’s just a matter of time,” Dean says.

Sam moves to the bathroom, attached to the bedroom, filming around the mirror. In the night vision of the camera, dried trickles of something down the wall, from the mirror. “Hey,” he says, getting the others to look at him. “There’s a black light in the trunk, right?”

He carries the mirror to Jill’s bed and lays it upside down so the back is facing the ceiling. Gabriel snaps up a black light and throws it to Sam. Sam peels off the brown paper covering the back, shining the black light over the newly-revealed back. Glowing beneath the light is a handprint and the words _Gary Bryman_.

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie asks.

“You know who that is?” Sam asks her.

“No,” she says.

-

They’re once more on a bench outside, Dean and Charlie sitting together, Sam and Gabriel walking up to them from behind.

“So, Gary Bryman was an eight-year-old boy. Two years ago, he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry,” Sam says.

“No one got the plates and no one saw the driver,” Gabriel adds. 

“Oh my God,” Charlie said.

“What?” Sam asks.

“Jill drove that car.”

“We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house,” Dean says.

-

In the bathroom of Donna’s house, Sam and Dean are hunched over the back of the mirror, black light in hand. There’s another handprint with the words _Linda Shoemaker_ on it.

“Linda Shoemaker,” Sam says.

Downstairs, Donna is irate. “Why are you asking me this?” she asks.

“Look, we’re sorry, but it’s important,” Sam says.

“Yeah. Linda’s my mom, okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills. It was an accident, and that’s it,” Donna says. She glares at them. “I think you should leave.” 

“Now, Donna, just listen,” Dean says, taking that authoritative tone he gets when he tries telling Sam what to do.

“Get out of my house!” Donna yells, then runs upstairs.

“Oh my God,” Charlie says. “Do you really think her dad could’ve killed her mom?”

“Maybe,” Sam suggests.

“I think I should stick around,” Charlie says.

“Alright,” Dean says.

Gabriel glances at Sam. “Just _don’t say_ \--”

“Believe me, I won’t say it,” Charlie says.

-

Dean’s on one of the library computers while Sam looks at things on the bulletin board next to them.

“Nationwide search, huh? You’re not screwin’ around here,” Gabriel comments.

“Yep,” Dean says. “The NCIC, the FBI database-- at this point, any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.”

“But if she’s haunting the town, she should have died in the town,” Sam points out. 

Gabriel sits on the desk with the computer, legs dangling. “Dunno, honey bunch. I think I gotta agree with your brother here, ‘cuz stuff like this can happen. With tricksters and whatnot.”

 _Honey bunch_ , Dean mouths to Sam. Sam rolls his eyes at Dean.

“The way Mary’s choosing her victims-- it seems like there’s a pattern,” Sam says.

“I know. I was thinkin’ the same thing,” Dean says.

“Shoemaker and Jill-- they both had some pretty damn big secrets. And I thought _I_ had a past.” Gabriel leans back, stretching out. 

“I mean, there’s a lot of folklore about mirrors-- that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they’re a true reflection of your soul, which is why it’s bad luck to break them,” Sam says.

“Right, right,” Dean says. “So maybe if you’ve got a secret-- I mean like a _really_ bad one where someone died--, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.”

Gabriel kicks his legs. “Whether you speed dialed her or not.”

“Exactly,” Sam says.

“Take a look at this.” Dean pulls up a black and white picture of a woman lying in a blood puddle by a mirror, then scrolls down to show Sam a picture of a handprint and the letters _Tre_.

“Looks like the same handprint,” Sam remarks.

“It _is_ ,” Gabriel says.

“Her name was Mary Worthington-- an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana,” Dean explains.

-

They end up in a cramped private detective’s office in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

“I was on the job for thirty-five years-- detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder-- that one still gets me,” the detective explains. 

“What exactly happened?” Dean asks.

“You boys said you were reporters?” the detective asks.

“We know Mary was nineteen, lived by herself,” Sam begins. “We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March twenty-ninth, someone broke into her apartment and murdered her. Cut out her eyes with a knife.” 

“That’s right,” the detective confirms.

“So when we were askin’ about what happened, we wanted to know about what _you_ think happened. ‘Cuz outta all the people we coulda asked, we know that your theories are the best,” Gabriel says.

The detective pulls several files from one of the filing cabinets. “Technically I’m not supposed to have a copy of this,” he says. He opens a file to show them the picture Dean had found on the computer. “Now see that there? T-R-E?”

“Yeah,” Dean says.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer,” the detective says.

“You know who, uh, punched her ticket?” Gabriel asks.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon. Trevor Sampson.” He pulls out a picture of a man and shows it to them. “And I think he cut her up good.”

“Why’d he do somethin’ like that?” Gabriel asks.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, T. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell T’s wife about their affair.”

“Yeah, but how d’you know it was Sampson who killed her?” Dean asks.

“It’s hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out… it was almost professional,” the detective says. 

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asks.

“No. No prints. No witnesses. He was meticulous.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Nope,” the detective says, sitting down and sighing deeply. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy’s secret. But she never could.”

“Where’s the buried?” Sam asks.

“We wasn’t,” the detective replies. “She was cremated.”

“What about that mirror?” Dean nods at the picture. “It’s not in some evidence lockup somewhere, is it?”

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary’s family a long time ago.”

“You got the names of her family anywhere?” Gabriel asks.

-

Sam’s on his cell phone as Dean drives. Gabriel’s in the back, eating a Carmello and messing with his DS.

“Oh, really? Ah, that’s too bad, Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror.” He glances at Gabriel over his shoulder. Gabriel smiles at him. He smiles back. “Okay, well maybe next time. Alright, thanks.” He hangs up and slides his phone into his pocket.

“So?” Dean asks.

“So, that was Mary’s brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.”

“So wherever the mirror goes, that’s where Mary goes?” Dean asks.

“Her spirit’s definitely tied up with it somehow,” Sam agrees.

“Isn’t there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?”

“Yup,” Gabriel says. “When someone’d drop in a house, they’d cover up all the mirrors, just so the ghost didn’t get sucked in and stay on this mortal plane for all eternity. Now, I don’t know ‘bout you two, but that sounds pretty damn horrific. Oh wait.”

Dean gives Sam that look again. 

“How could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?” Sam asks.

“Maybe you should ask your boyfriend, ‘cuz he knows everythin’, apparently.” Dean shakes his head. “If the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe.” Sam’s phone rings. He answers. “Hello.” He breathes in, sharply. “Charlie?”

-

Charlie’s sitting on Dean’s bed in the motel, head on her knees, the curtains closed. Sam and Dean are throwing sheets over the mirrors, facing them to the wall or floor, or, in Gabriel’s case, snapping them out of existence. 

Sam sits next to Charlie. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Hey, you can open up your eyes, Charlie. It’s okay, alright?”

Charlie looks up slowly, crying.

“Now listen. You’re gonna stay right here on this bed, and you’re not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can’t keep that up forever,” Charlie says. “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“No way, kiddo,” Gabriel says, taking up his typical place next to Sam. “No. You’re not gonna die anytime soon, alright?”

Dean sits on the bed on Charlie’s other side. “Alright Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom,” Charlie sobs. “Donna said it.”

“That’s not what we’re talkin’ about,” Dean says. “Somethin’ happened, didn’t it? In your life… a secret… where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?”

Charlie swallows hard. “I had this boyfriend,” she begins. “I loved him. But he kinda scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got into this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said, ‘Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I’m gonna kill myself’. And you know what I said?” Charlie looks sick at her past actions. “I said ‘go ahead’. And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just… I didn’t believe him, you know? I should have.” She puts her face back on her knees and starts crying again, sobbing into her knees.

-

Dean drives the Impala through the rain, the water making the black of the car shine in the lights lining the street.

“You know, her boyfriend killing himself, that’s not really Charlie’s fault,” Dean says.

“You know as well as I do spirits don’t exactly see shades of gray, Dean,” Sam says, matter-of-factly. “Charlie had a secret, someone died, that’s good enough for Mary.”

“I guess,” Dean mutters.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Sam says. “It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.”

“Why, what d’you mean?”

“Well, Mary’s hard to pin down, right? I mean, she moves around from mirror to mirror, so who’s to say that she’s not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it,” Sam suggests.

“Well, how do you know that’s gonna work?” Dean asks.

“I don’t. Not for sure.”

“Well, who’s gonna summon her?” Dean asks.

“I will,” Sam says. “She’ll come after me.”

“You know what, that’s it.” Dean pulls the car over to the side of the road. Before Sam can protest, Dean starts speaking. “This is about whatever almost happened to Gabe, isn’t it? You think that’s your dirty little secret? That you almost killed him? Sam, this has got to stop, man.” Dean shakes his head. “I mean, the nightmares and callin’ his name out in the middle of the night-- it’s gonna kill you. Now listen to me-- it wasn’t your fault. If you wanna blame somethin’, blame that bastard, Yellow-Eyes. Or hell, why don’t you take a swing at _me_? I mean, I’m the one that dragged you away from him in the first place.”

“I don’t blame you,” Sam says, looking at Gabriel in the backseat. “I warned him, but we thought…”

“About what? You didn’t know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn’t a secret. I mean, I know all about it. It’s not gonna work with Mary anyway,” Dean says.

“No, you don’t,” Sam says.

“I don’t what?” Dean asks.

Sam avoids Gabriel’s eyes. “You don’t know all about it. I haven’t told you everything.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Dean asks.

“It’s--” Sam shakes his head.

“You know what?” Gabriel pipes up from the back, authoritative in a way he isn’t normally. “ _I’ll_ do it.”

“What, _you_?” Dean asks. “Takin’ one for the team?”

“Don’t act like I’ve never done it before,” Gabriel says. “And don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.”

Dean looks at Gabriel over his shoulder. “You’ve--?”

“Dean. Archangel of the Lord. You think I _haven’t_ done anything I regret before?”Gabriel leans back.

Sam watches him. “But what if you--”

“Sam, sugar lumps, I love you and appreciate the concern, I really do, but I don’t think some little ghostie’s gonna hurt me. Again. Archangel. I’ve been through _wars_. I’ll be fine.” Gabriel leans up to kiss Sam.

“Jesus! Not in the damn car!” Dean protests.

“So, let’s gank a ghost.”

-

Gabriel snaps open the door to the shop. Inside, there are many mirrors.

“Well… that’s just great,” Dean mutters.

“Dude’s _gotta_ have some sort of fetish for mirrors.” Gabriel leads them inside. 

Dean takes out the picture. “Alright, let’s start looking.” He walks off one way, Sam and Gabriel in the other. A light at their feet flashes. 

“Maybe they’ve already sold it,” Dean suggests, loudly.

Sam’s flashlight stops at the mirror. “I don’t think so,” he says.

Dean comes over and pulls out the picture, comparing the two of them. “That’s it,” he says. Then he sighs. “You sure about this?” He looks at Gabriel, almost concerned.

“Aww. That’s awful sweet of you, Dean. Finally warming up?” Gabriel teases. His smile fades as he moves to sit in front of the mirror. “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, staring into his own eyes. The corner of his mouth quirks up, more in a dare for Mary to mess with him than anything humorous. “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines into the mirror. Dean looks over his shoulder. “I’ll go check that out,” he says. “Stay here, be careful.” 

Sam readies the crowbar, watching Gabriel’s reflection.

“Smash anything that moves.” Dean crawls away to the front door, stealthy as always. He stops when he sees a bright light shining in. “Crap,” he mutters, puts down his crowbar, and stands to walk to the door. 

Gabriel glances at Dean. Mary appears in the mirror in front of him. Sam inhales sharply.

-

“Hold it,” the police officer says, once Dean exits the shop.

“Whoa, guys. False alarm. I tripped the system.”

“Who are you?” the officer asks.

“I’m the boss’s kid,” Dean says, confidently.

“You’re mister Yamashiro’s kid?”

Dean asks himself why everything has to be so hard. 

-

Mary flits to another mirror, watching them. Sam smashes the glass. She moves to another, which he smashes, as well. Mirror shards fall like rain from the now-empty frames.

Gabriel stares into her mirror. “C’mon,” he says. “I’m the one you want, aren’t I?” He observes his reflection. Mirror-Gabriel looks at Gabriel, his head shifting angles like a cat’s. The real Gabriel’s breathing stutters (though he doesn’t need to breathe), and a trickle of blood comes from his eye.

“Gabe?” Sam asks.

“It’s your fault,” Mirror-Gabriel says, in Gabriel’s voice, but more echoing, more evil. “You killed them.” Mirror-Gabriel looks down upon Gabriel. “You killed them _all_.”

-

“Like I said, I was adopted.” Dean shifts where he’s standing, smiling a charming, but unconvincing.

“Yeah,” one of the officers says, not believing him.

Dean, covered on both his front and back by police officers, sighs. “You know, I just-- I really don’t have time for this right now.” He punches the officer in front of him, backhands the other behind him, and punches the one in front, just for measure. They drop to the ground.

-

“You abused your power,” Mirror-Gabriel says. “You killed them because you think you’re allowed to judge them. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You want to find your dad.”

Gabriel coughs, a little, but he wipes the blood from his cheek. “What, that’s everything you got? I got a lot more sins than that.”

“You wanted him to stop you, didn’t you?” Mirror-Gabriel asks. “You thought if you became him, you’d see him again. And then you met the hunter. And you wanted to mess with him. But you fell in love, didn’t you? And he was _disgusted_ by you.”

Gabriel stares at his reflection, unblinking. “I don’t feel anything,” he taunts, even though another rivulet of blood slides from his eye like a tear. Another joins it on the other side.

“How could you? How could you kill people? Your father’s creations? And you called yourself a god.” Mirror-Gabriel shakes his head, looking disgusted with his real counterpart. “But you’re not a god. You’re just an angel with daddy issues. And you’re going to ruin Sam’s life. You’re going to destroy him, and he’s going to regret ever meeting you. He’ll hate you, when he dies.”

More blood drips from Gabriel’s eyes. He looks at his reflection.

“He’ll die screaming, because of you!”

Sam’s crowbar smashes through the mirror, the glass smashing into pieces around them. He drops the crowbar and takes Gabriel’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes. “Gabe. Gabe? Are you okay?”

Gabriel blinks a couple times, refocusing. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Dean rushes into the room. “You smashed it?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, not looking away from Gabriel’s eyes. He rubs his thumb up GAbriel’s cheek, rubbing the blood away. “Hey. Are you sure--?”

“It’s okay,” Gabriel says. “It’s good. Nothin’ I’ve never dealt with before, y’know?”

“We gotta go, ‘cuz I just, uh, punched out some cops, and…” Dean stares at the mirror shards for a moment.

Mary drags herself out of the empty frame of the mirror, crawling over the broken glass in front of her and breathing hard, labored breaths. She stands, flickering in and out of existence like a glitch, and hobbles towards them as though her legs are broken. Sam and Dean fall to the ground, blood running down their faces, grunting in pain. Gabriel looks like he’s ready to fight her when Dean pulls over a mirror, grunting with excertion, angling it so Mary has to look into her own reflection.

“You killed them!” her reflection hisses, echoing and raspy. “All those people! You killed them!”

Mary starts choking to death, the sounds of her struggle ending when she melts into a puddle of blood, surrounded by mirror shards. Dean throws the mirror he held at her, which shatters.

“Hey Sam?” Dean asks, raspily.

“Yeah?” Sam responds, equally as exhausted. 

“This has got to be like… what? 600 years of bad luck?”

Sam chuckles weakly. Gabriel helps him up, then Dean. 

“C’mon, dumb mortals. We got cops to evade.”

-

Dean drives the Impala, Sam in shotgun, Gabriel and Charlie sitting in the back. He pulls up in front of her house and looks at her over his shoulder.

“So this is really over?” Charlie asks.

Dean nods. “Yeah, it’s over.”

“Thank you,” she says, quietly. 

Dean reaches into the back to shake her hand. She gets out of the car.

“Charlie?” Sam asks. She turns around. “Your boyfriend’s death… you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn’t have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

Charlie smiles, faint, then turns to go into her house.

Dean lightly smacks Sam. “That’s good advice,” he says. He looks back at Gabriel. “Guess some little ghostie did wreck your shit.”

“Not as bad as she wrecked yours,” Gabriel fires back. 

“What did she even _say_ to you?”

Gabriel gives him a look, glancing at Sam for a second. “Just some stuff I did before I got my moral compass, okay? Nothin’ big.”

“Hey man, I get tryin’ to be mysterious and whatnot, but--”

“Dean,” Sam says.

Dean sighs. “Okay. Alright. Keep your damn secrets.” He drives from Charlie’s house.

Sam and Gabriel look at each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Me, clearing my throat: Can I offer you a nice fic durin' this tryin' time?
> 
> In actuality, I hope everyone's been doing well, and that you guys are staying safe. I've been creating a backlog of fics for this series with all my newfound free time, so I'l (hopefully!) be publishing more for this series. Next up: Skin But Gay (trademark pending).
> 
> Just because I'm curious: what do y'all think about this series? I've really been enjoying writing this, so I hope y'all are liking it! Is there anything in particular you guys like to see? What about things you _don't_ like seeing? Any suggestions?


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